


brave soldier boy, comes marching home

by masamune11



Series: intersecting paths [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Fix-It, Gen, Ghosts, Heavy Theory, M/M, Short, spoiler to K: Missing Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have come to take you away,” she said without preamble. Despite her somewhat sympathetic expression, something beyond her eyes screamed apathy and indifference, and it rattled Mikoto to some extent. “My name mattered not, Mikoto Suoh. For now, all you need to know is that I am your <i>ferrywoman</i>, and I am tasked to guide you on your next journey."</p><hr/><p>Mikoto died. Reishi cannot let go. Tatara knew more than he let on. And this ferrywoman claimed that she could send him to the after-life <i>after</i> he finished another journey while remaining as a ghost.</p><p>This is a story about Suoh Mikoto's journey to come back home.</p><p>[<em> Set before '365 days' </em>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tatara Totsuka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sazyanaita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sazyanaita/gifts).



> I write something about Claudia because, _why not_?
> 
> CAUTION: This fic contains heavy theory regarding Dresden Slate, the relationship between Shinto Mythology and [K] casts, and may not be aligned with additional [K] media such as drama CD, comics, or other materials. Also this story officially diverges from continuation, so... *slap an AU logo on this fic*
> 
> Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Weren’t you asking too much from your soulmate?"
> 
> Of all things that Mikoto expected Tatara to say about, he certainly did not expect _that_. “He wasn’t what you think he has been to me,” he grunted. To his annoyance, Tatara went full-blown laughing. “Hey, I’m serious."

Mikoto Suoh’s first thought when he came to be was this: _dying sucked._

He still remembered the sensation of being stabbed with a sabre on his chest, his ribs breaking under the cold pressure of that steel, courtesy of the Blue King’s power, as he greeted death in its face. At first, the only part that hurt was his chest. But after his body began to catch up with reality, Mikoto quickly felt the pain racing throughout his body, to the point that lifting a finger became a struggle. Everything felt hurt and numb; the other thing that he could feel was the _burning fire lashing strongly within himself_  as it tried to return back into the slate. Reishi’s form held him back from falling as he struggled to put the rest of his power to use.

The process itself was hell. He certainly wouldn’t wish such pain on anyone _twice_  (dying being an inevitability and all).

His second thought, albeit very generic for a man like himself, was  _‘where the hell am I?’_

What surrounded him was black nothingness that that felt suffocating. Yet, as soon as he spelled his thoughts in silence, the blackness shimmered; there was a silver light which slowly descended upon the spot not far from across himself. Out of that sliver of light stepped an unknown woman with platinum hair… and a melancholy gaze that reminded him too much of someone.

(Reishi. He remembered his face when he finally decided to strike Mikoto down. It was the same resigned expression which was forcefully plastered on that fair face.)

“I have come to take you away,” she said without preamble. Despite her somewhat sympathetic expression, something beyond her eyes screamed _apathy and indifference,_ and it rattled Mikoto to some extent _._ Also, there was the fact that he had no idea who this woman was, even though they were pretty much stranded in the middle of nowhere. It would seem that the lady could read mind, he thought, because her whole composure shifted into that of hollow sincerity (he was sure it was a front to lull anyone to some false sense of security). “My name mattered not, Mikoto Suoh. For now, all you need to know is that I am your _ferrywoman_ , and I am tasked to guide you in your next journey."

He grunted, part of his memory remembering one of Totsuka’s stories about a ferryman who would whisk a deadman’s soul to the afterlife—something about greek stories or the sorts—for a price. Unfortunately, he had no silver coins on him. “I have nothing on me to pay for my journey."

He certainly did not expect her mirthful chuckle at all, as he was too bothered by the hollowness of it all, “it will be paid when you finish yours. Now, would you please follow me?"

As if he had a choice in the first place.

* * *

The woman was capable of bending the black spaces surrounding them and it somewhat… _daunted_ him, and it was not without cause.

First, whatever power he had gained from being chosen as the King had vanished. He no longer could feel the warmth of his fire in his blood nor the sitting anticipation at the base of his being. It made him feel vulnerable; to think he would feel that way with his own power, Mikoto had never thought he would still be around to think of it that way.

(He was dead, no matter how he looked at it. No one ever told him that one would be sent to the limbo and still remain aware of his self, of all things.)

Second, the woman had led him into multiple silvery doors, which she mentioned briefly, within their jumps-out from that black empty spaces, as the ‘doors of fates’. She stated that it was a means of transport for _ferrywoman_ (or man) like her to fetch dead people like him. Apparently, there were other people who got lost in the limbo once in awhile.

He asked if there was a reason for a person to be lost in this place. Her answer was another door, the same one which he had to get through for the third time then after walking in endless span of nothingness, and a gesture for him to step inside. Mikoto glared at her petulantly. The woman did not budge at all, but she did eventually reply, “I will have to show you the answer, Mikoto. Now, step in."

Half-grumbling, the man finally yielded to her demand and stepped inside.

* * *

He wanted to cry.

When he finally stepped into the door, he had expected another span of never-ending black landscape. Instead, his foot landed on hard marble… and a wooden ladder leading to the next floor. He realised that he was inside an unknown building instead of that hollow expanse, and the thought spurred him to just _climb the damn ladder_  and _look for something._

(He could not admit to himself that the hollow black space was getting to him; he was alone, with nothing more than a mysterious guide to be there. He was alone, for real, and the thought scared him—what would he become? Had time stopped altogether? Why? There were too many questions.)

He never expected to see _Tatara Totsuka_  the first thing he arrived at the upper floor.

The first thing he did then was to come over at said man and delivered a well-earned hit on his head, to which the other yelped indignantly and laughed. _King is being mean to me,_  he playfully replied, and then Mikoto irritably delivered another, softer poke that screamed every bits of his frustration and concern. “You have been avenged, Totsuka."

The former vassal seemed to quieten briefly on his seat, his form growing slouched despite his initial liveliness, “but how much did you pay for that cause, King?"

Mikoto knew that the latter was throwing a rhetorical question, but he just smiled and tilted his head upwards, glacing aimlessly at the plafond. Totsuka’s sitting form behind him fidgeted on his chair. “It was a fair price."

(Mikoto wondered if the other knew that his Damocles deteriorated quickly in the span of twelve days after his vassal’s death. Admittedly, Tatara's death really hit him where it _hurt_.)

The other let out a defeated sigh, and replied wistfully, “King always did whatever you want, even when he urged you not to. That was another reason why I followed you all that time."

“Hn,” he had nothing to say about that, really. Mikoto had heard these comments too many times from both Kusanagi and himself. Something else caught his attention, though—something that the other shouldn’t have stated if he knew nothing else. “Munakata tried."

Tatara let out another wistful chuckle, “he did, but you still went along with what you have in mind."

Mikoto chose not to response to his statement, only because _he felt another incoming,_ “Weren’t you asking too much from your soulmate?"

Of all things that Mikoto expected Tatara to say about, he certainly did not expect _that_. “He wasn’t what you think he has been to me,” he grunted. To his annoyance, Tatara went full-blown laughing. “Hey, I’m _serious_."

“N-no, of course I’m mistaken. Of course,” but the giggling continued, a reminiscence of a time when everyone was there, happy, and not-so-dead. “It’s just… maybe King ought to realise that you have asked the Blue King too much."

Mikoto blinked, feeling Tatara’s hand reaching out to his hand slowly. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a shimmering blue aura encompassing his left hand— _Reishi’s aura, of all things_ —that successfully made him jolt on his place. When had this aura even appeared? And why did he not realise it in the first place? His expression ranged from deep annoyance to astonishment; he never freaked out over things, but this surely warranted a period. “What the fuck?"

So Mikoto sought answer at Tatara’s serene expression, “you can not move on with him holding you back. This is why the ferrywoman brings you… you will have to make peace to him if you want to move on—or rather, Munakata-san must make peace with you so that you may go on."

* * *

It was proven that the ferrywoman had the ability to cut through dimensions and appeared at her convenience. When he was about to ask his former vassal about the Blue King, another wave of silvery threads suddenly appeared and formed a door—the same door that the ferrywoman used to move both of them away. Not a moment after, the ferrywoman walked out from the door, dressed in something resembling of a casual green trooper outfit. Come to think of it, he did not focus much to the fact that she was wearing that outfit previously, as if the details were scrapped from his attention.

Tatara shifted beside him then, so Mikoto raised his hand, as if trying to protect his vassal with a message, _you will not be taking him anywhere_. To his annoyance, the ferrywoman looked at with bemused expression. “It is time to start your journey, Mikoto."

He had given her his best  _‘try and make me_ ’ expression, only to be interrupted by another one of Tatara’s chuckle, “you can trust her, King. Go with her, and she’ll show you the way."

He wanted to protest against Tatara’s idea; couldn’t this whole journey can wait? Couldn’t he stay here with his weird best friend? But Tatara only offered him a wane smile as if he understood what was going on inside his head. “You can’t, King. Not until he let you go."

It did not make sense then, but later on he understood why the ferrywoman opened the door before him and harshly pushed him (she was strong for a lean woman with short posture) to step outside almost as soon those words escaped the former vassal’s lips. Mikoto almost let out an indignant yelp when his feet did not touch _anything_ , his body quickly descended into nothingness that slowly turned into _world of blues, white, and grays_. He would never willingly experience this sensation, even if by chance he was to be met by the familiar view of Shizume city.

But above all that, he was _floating._

(He was astounded, of course. For so long, he thought that he would be drifting in that black expanse and wondered when would everything ended. But seeing Shizume City was the last thing on his mind when he was pushed through that last silver door. Now that he was out, he realised that _he could meet him again and asked for explanation_.

After all, the blue aura still remained on his arm, and he had no idea why.)

Mikoto let another disgruntled groan and looked around. The woman was floating not far from him with another smile, “What shall we do first then?"

Did she just say what he thought it is? “You don’t have a plan, woman?"

The ferrywoman only let a snort. At least this time it was with enough emotion that did not make his skin crawl. “This is your journey from the very beginning, Mikoto. You have to set your path—just like how you lived your life as the Red King."

“Hn. If you’re going to stick around, at least give me your name. Ferrywoman is too mouthful.” _That, and it grated his nerves to have no name over an entity (because she could never be just a human)._

For a moment, Mikoto thought time had stilled when the ferrywoman smirked wistfully, every hollow visages that she had presented shed out out of her face. “I never have to give my name to anyone else, but I suppose it will do you justice. You may call me… Claudia. Claudia Weismann."


	2. Claudia Weismann and Anna Kushina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you really have to bolt out and leave me behind whenever your soulmate is in trouble?”
> 
> Claudia’s crisp voice did not even faze him, not after having experienced her antics for so many times. Mikoto scowled as the last of her wispy silver webs from one of her doors of fate dissipated, “the fuck are you talking about, he’s not my soulmate."
> 
> * * *
> 
> In which Claudia being shady for knowing almost everything, Anna being crowned as the Red King, and Reishi having trouble to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be filled with joy and crack until my angsty side decides to rear its ugly head. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Apologies for any typos, beforehand. Please enjoy, nonetheless.

Being a dead man walking had both its pros and cons.

For the pros, Mikoto quickly found out that ghosts, as expected, needed not to replenish themselves with food. However, Claudia the ferrywoman kindly reminded him that they needed to rest, particularly after being in touch with mobs with heightened emotion. Mikoto learned it the hard way when he encountered a mob from a local gang fighting against some of SCEPTER 4 forces. The sheer amount of rage, frustration, and elation itself made him disoriented, to the point that his consciousness faded. Fortunately, the ferrywoman quickly went to his side and pulled him away from that place with another silver door, restoring his consciousness along. When he came to, Mikoto was already at the southern part of Mihashira tower, Claudia's unsurprising vacant expression greeting him so close that they almost kissed.

(He supposed that part should count as the cons.)

For the cons, it went without saying that he could not appeal to anyone at all. Sure, he could cause little mayhem once a while by pretending as a poltergeist, but it was not the most effective way to push his victims to the right direction. At the end of the day, Mikoto could only cause minor incidents, which would not even appeal to Reishi’s attention.

(Before the start of their journey, Claudia told him again that the purpose of this journey was to sever Munakata's lingering will from his soul. A King, she said, had the ability—the _greatness_ —which could affect someone's fate. It was made apparent that Reishi had unconsiously done just that, a part of him not wanting to let the man go, and held Mikoto back to his rightful place. It was the main reason why Mikoto ended up in limbo in the first place.

When he asked whether something similar to situation ever happened in the past, Claudia offered him another vacant stare and turned her back. She remained silent for the rest of the day.)

Not to say he never _tried._

After all, the first thing he did when he realised his newfound position was to visit SCEPTER4 HQ. Admittedly, he found little problem infiltrating the facility, him being a ghost and all. The quietness that the HQ exuded helped his tired psyche, especially after suffering major headaches due to bustling crowd of the city. Finding Reishi was easier than he thought at first; all he needed to do was tailing his lieutenant to met her captain. Before long, Mikoto found himself appearing before Reishi Munakata’s presence, the Blue King sitting quietly at the corner of his relaxation space with a glass of _ocha_ as his company.

The lieutenant whom he was tailing saluted him and offered her report. He saw the captain’s usual calculated smile as they exchanged banters, the lieutenant eventually ending their conversation and left. In that passing moment, it hit him that _nothing had changed—_ that the world kept on spinning even though he was alive no more; that Reishi Munakata’s smile remained as arrogant as he remembered— 

Claudia appeared by his side in a flash of silvery light and let her hand rest on his shoulder. He looked how her empty eyes shifted into stormy ones, making the man wonder how easily emotion being evoked and emptied for this woman. Her steely words felt as cold as ice, but it rang within him as the truth, “he bound you to this world with grief and sealed your fate with power, Mikoto. Before you voice your judgement so harshly, perhaps you should really look… and think."

He could only understand her words days after, when Mikoto decided to stalk the Blue King. Only then he realised how strained his smiles had become, how jaded his eyes were, how the Blue King would wake up in cold sweat and grasped for the bedcover as though it would comfort him, how he would _looked at him with longing as though Reishi knew he was_ **there** —

“He knew there was something when he looked at you,” the ferrywoman vacantly replied to his unsaid question, “you harbour a splinter of his power, after all. It is imperative for you to return it —but does he even want to have it back?"

Mikoto looked at the captain again, right at his eyes, and noticed then how it bore longing and nostalgia before said man turned away completely as if in denial. 

In that moment, Mikoto realised that he had broken Reishi Munakata.

* * *

He was no longer a King, yet Mikoto could smell it in the air that there was danger brewing—danger that involved the lives of his (former) clansmen, Reishi’s, and the Green Kings’. His gut instinct was proven true, of course, when Mihashira Tower was under sieged by Green Clan. To make matter worse, Anna managed to get herself tangled in this tirade, along with Misaki, the dog, and the cat.

Mikoto could only stand by and watch, then. Claudia Weismann thought otherwise.

"Did you know that another Red King has been chosen as soon as you fell?" the blonde woman started again, without preamble. At the time, Mikoto was so used to her sudden ramblings that he learned to wait for her next words—so that she may finish with what she had started. "But to be a King, one must accept that fact, and therefore, the Slate's decision. Even it knows the concept of consent."

That was the first time Claudia mentioned of the Slate, and it was enough for Mikoto to stare at the woman with major incomprehension. While his knowledge about Dresden Slate was bare, he knew bits and pieces from Kusanagi's seldom rants that it was the thing which granted him—and the other Kings—power. He also knew that no one knew of its true nature or how it worked at all. Yet, for this woman to actually blurt a trivia about Dresden Slate so casually, especially related to his (former) clansmen...

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, "...who the hell are you, Claudia?"

He did not see any hollowness in her stare, but the mischief shadowing her eyes was enough for him to prepare for a rough push. He had nothing compared to this woman after all, but it did not stop him from voicing his words when it mattered. "I am your  _ferrywoman,_ and I'm here to guide _you_."

Before he knew it, she had already closed in to him, another door of fate standing open behind him. He wanted to cry out that, _no, he is not coming back into that blasted blackness._ But he was already falling when he caught her words, spoken in silence and ended with an encouraging smile:

" _Talk to her_."

* * *

He was faced with the same ladder where he first met Tatara in this world and immediately knew what the ferrywoman meant. So he stepped forward and met the young girl who could not embrace that power, too in grief to move forward because  _he died, and Kings left marks on their followers._

Anna Kushina was warm.

(He missed her, in a way a brother missed his sister. But there was a reason why he had been avoiding to visit HOMRA in the first place. Anna was a strain with extrasensory capability; if she strained her sense, she would probably see his ghost. He suspected this, and showing his face would only tear fresh wounds. She needed not a face from the past; Anna needed closure, and showing up in the bar to surprise her was not  _it._  

Claudia agreed with his line of thoughts only because it would make her job harder. _False hopes_ could turn into a chain as strong as  _grief_ after all.)

"It is not my red. It has always been _your_ red— _your color."_

(She needed closure, so he gave her that. If only he could give Reishi the same thing...)

* * *

Mikoto counted the days of his resurrection as a ghost and found that three-hundred-or-so days swept by like a breeze. His ferrywoman told him that it was due difference of perceived time between the living and dead. The dead experienced things more slowly than the living, which explained why vengeful spirits could remain in the world for so long and never got banished.

(He once asked whether Claudia was one of those spirits—well, she was supposed to be dead anyway to pull him around so much. The woman looked at her coldly and, just like the first time they met, chose to remain silent).

It was on the 340th day since his death that he felt something was wrong with the Blue King.

He came to his sense when he felt his left hand—the one that Reishi’s aura latched on—tingle. The sensation was slight enough that he could have missed it, but the appearance of Reishi’s Damocles Sword near his flat was enough for him to confirm his suspicion that something was going on. Before he knew it, he was already on his way to that place, with his ferrywoman tailing behind.

He entered Reishi’s room without hesitation and found nothing had been disturbed, much to his surprise. He did find Reishi’s sleeping form on the bed, with cold sweat running down his brow. Mikoto did not have to stand close to know that that he was trembling, and he wondered if he was fighting the demons of his own makings.

It was during times like this that he cursed his situation as a ghost.

“Do you really have to bolt out and leave me behind whenever your soulmate is in trouble?”

Claudia’s crisp voice did not even faze him, not after having experienced her antics for so many times. Mikoto scowled as the last of her wispy silver webs from one of her doors of fate dissipated, “the fuck are you talking about, he’s not my soulmate."

He quietened down quickly when Reishi moaned—or rather, groaned—and started shifting haphazardly. Dread quickly filled his brain, while his left hand remained twitchy, as if part of his limb was not responding correctly. He himself can wait. “Can’t we do something?"

The woman always held an answer whenever she gave him that thoughtful look. However, he did not like how she eyed Reishi as if he was a lab rat. Mikoto counted to ten silently, unnervingly, praying that, _yes, his ferrywoman had the answer_. When that pair of silver eyes lightened with hints of emotion, Mikoto could already feel the his relief seeping into his core. 

“We can. In fact, this should be the perfect time for you to make contact, given how his Damocles was starting to crack,” she replied earnestly, ignoring the  _‘what the hell’_  look that she earned for that Damocles comment, and put her hand on Mikoto’s left. Reishi’s aura on his left hand seemed to glow for a brief moment, as if responding to her gentle touch; it earned her another suspecting stare. “This power came from him after all…"

( _She knows something about this—about kings, the Slate, and death,_ Mikoto deduced on the 300th day since his coming. _She knows something and the fact that she’s hiding it right at his face make her both important **and dangerous**_.)

“…and with his power, we’ll get you in."

As soon as the ferrywoman finished her words, Mikoto felt his form being pushed into one of those silver doors once again. He half-expected this development, but Mikoto certainly did not expect his world to turn upside-down, nor the chill of winter air grazing his skin ( _he could feel as if he was alive, how the in hell it was even possible?_ ) and the frost beneath his sprawled body as he crashed into the ground. 

Mikoto’s first thought was  _‘what the hell was that woman thinking’_ as he slowly rose to his feet. Winter wind quickly crashed on his unguarded face—another harsh reminder for his mind again that _he could feel despite being a ghost and he had no fucking idea how or why_ —and Mikoto was forced to cover his face with his hand. Just when he thought about when the blasted storm would recede, the wind stopped howling. Slowly, his visibility improved enough that he could see two man standing several meters away from him: a man with sabre held in hand, while the other… a man with spiky short hair. Mikoto needed not to look at them closely to know who they were supposed to be.

The former Red King wanted to shout at them then, both at the man who opened his arms as if he was facing his salvation and at the man with his sabre held high despite his barely-gathered resolve. But the shadow closed in before he could let out a scream nonetheless, his sword plunged through the heart of his enemy’s. As though the nature answered the silent call of the victor, the storm dissipated completely, Reishi Munakata’s stoic expression completely visible and unshakable as Mikoto Suoh’s body ( _not him, he was dead, he was standing_ outside of their field of view _—a spectator_ ) limped on his own.

For a moment, Reishi’s stoic expression remained… until it finally turned stricken as he laid down his victim’s body to the ground. He could never imagine him to bow his head in defeat, to have him kneeling beside his dead body in remorse, or even to have him shed held-back tears as the realisation hit him _right there_ — 

—maybe it was never Reishi’s regret that held him back from passing on. Maybe it was his sin that bound him here, to this world.

(He understood now, why he was hesitating about the idea of granting Reishi’s closure. There was nothing he could offer from himself to remedy Reishi’s guilt; if anything, his presence would only bring more distress. 

He broke Reishi Munakata without giving him a way to reform back.

This was his sin—and there was no way to repent.)


	3. Reishi Munakata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (It was too late for Mikoto to go back, too late to say that to him when Reishi could easily go on with his life if he could only just—)
> 
> “…let me go in peace."
> 
> * * *
> 
> In which Reishi can never _let him go_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that this fic was supposed to be three chapters? ...Um, I lied.
> 
> Unbeta'ed, so my apologies for any typos. Please enjoy, nonetheless.

He found the world of white so fitting for a man like Reishi.

The current Blue King had forever been a man who would hold his sense of justice and order above everything. He was the man who look for the greater good, even if his duty required him to kill his feelings—just like how he stabbed the Red dutifully. He was what Mikoto define as the knight of justice: a figure who paraded with his sword, denying his enemies' intention to taint the purity of the system; a true lawful-neutral person who would cross whatever bridges to preserve the greater good—to keep this barren land white and  _pure_. While he would not sacrifice other people aimlessly for the sake of this cause, Mikoto, however, knew that the man would willingly threw himself to the abyss as a payment to preserve such lonely order.

This endless plain was another side of order that Reishi tried to protect—a facet of his dream that had been scrapped dry of happiness because his victim's body had limped hopelessly on the ground, while he himself wept for the sin that he had to endure.

Mikoto couldn't stand it, so he began his long walk to face his killer—to face the person whom he broke so badly that said man tortured himself every single night.

(He knew that Reishi had nightmares. Hell, he had been stalking him since the fourteenth day of his awakening, watching those violet eyes staring frantically at his surrounding during nights when he clashed against his guilt, and knew too well that  _Reishi was not alright._  He witnessed how pallid the man was in every abrupt awakening, how he looked around with hope finding some sort of ghosts—signs,  _anything_ —and ended up resigned for the fact that there  _was nothing_   _saved_   _for himself_. To even think that such dejected expression can grace Reishi's face was incomprehensible for him.)

He was about to dash at him, trying to figure things out despite such skill not being his specialty, when Claudia,  _the witch she was,_  stopped him at where he stood, some of her silver strands of power binding him tightly at his place, the words she uttered brought chill to his spine, "you are nothing now compared to the Blue King. Does your simple mind understand what this fact means, Mikoto? He could smother you to nothingness, and nothing in Slate's power would restore you—not even  _your_  mind or spirit."

That was the final straw, amongst the guilt and frustration that had slowly caught up with him, that ticked him off. He had no idea what kind of life that made this woman so unstable,  _so broken in contrasting her emotion_ , but he was kneeling there, reeling at the fact that  _this was his mess from the very start_ ; Mikoto will not give her warning a damn, because he  _will_   _grant the closure that he owed to Reishi._  Not even this ferrywoman would stop him.

He expected being so angry; he did not expect the blue aura in his left hand reacting to his anger, overpowering the ferrywoman's silvery threads with a burst of frost. Claudia did not seem to anticipate such retaliation, nor did Mikoto, but the latter quickly took this opening and dashed at the Blue King's dejected figure. It took only a moment--a wisp of shining teal power at his wake—for him took close in, Reishi's slouched posture a sign that he was too unaware of his own surrounding, saved for Mikoto's corpse.

"...Munakata," he started, albeit a bit warily. Said man flinched at the sound of his name, refusing to look up at the man whose blood was on his hand. Perhaps Reishi took him as another apparition designed by his subconsciousness to further blame himself. Not that it mattered much to Mikoto; King or not, he cannot stand being ignored when the first thing that he wanted to initiate was to  _interact_. So he quickly kneeled by his side and yanked him harshly to jolt the King from his own reverie.

"[Muna— _Reishi,_  get a hold of yourself](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4559349#freedom1)," he grunted, his words spoken harshly yet not lacking concern. Even then, the man still refused to look at him, until Mikoto forced him to. Violet met red, and the former Red King felt the other's breath hitched at the impossibility of seeing him  _there and moving._

"...This is just a dream. When I close my eyes, you will still be dead." he denied numbly, his words sounding more hollow than what the red-haired man expected.

Mikoto abruptly paused. Reishi was partially right, that this whole set up was a dream. It did not mean that Mikoto would let this be as unreal as Reishi thought. His left hand still itched with the Blue King's power, a reminder that while his body had withered…  _he was still here_. "...you are right, this whole encounter is a dream."

Reishi tried to avoid his eyes once again, but Mikoto was already one step ahead  _and held his chin with his hand_  and locked their eye contact _._  The aura blue surrounding it gleamed softly, making the King's eyes widen in surprise. "But can you deny my presence when you're the one trying so hard to keep me here?"

Mikoto suddenly found the other gripping on his shoulders like a drowning man. Violet eyes were suddenly filled with hope, and he found the change a relief. "You're... really here?"

"No thanks to you,” Mikoto replied light-heartedly, a small smile gracing his thin lips. The man felt the grip on his shoulders tightened as the King slowly pulled him, burying his face on Mikoto’s shirt despite his glasses. Mikoto did not resist, not when he noticed the glassiness of those violet eyes before said man initiated contact, a sign of this man being close to breaking down altogether. He also noticed other things that were not  _Reishi,_  particularly about the soft sound of soles meeting freshly-fallen snow and an empty gaze of silver eyes that bored on both of them. The ferrywoman was reluctant to intrude—this was what Mikoto had presumed—as if she was aware how her next words would shatter their little moment.

They came to set Mikoto free from this man, after all.

“Reishi,” Mikoto muttered, his other hand had already moved to stroke the back of the King’s head soothingly ever since the man made his move. There were so many things that he wanted to say to this man: how he valued the time they shared together despite the stupid things they did to get to each other’s nerves, the unsaid apologies that should have been voiced before Mikoto’s life came to close,  _his regret of never saying how he_  adored  _him despite his stick-in-the-mud holier-than-thou attitude—_

(It was too late for Mikoto to go back, too late to say that to him when Reishi could easily go on with his life if he could only just—)

“…let me go in peace."

The body within his embrace stiffened abruptly. Tear-strickened face lifted up, violet behind that askew glass met golden eyes, and Mikoto wondered how long ago it had been since the last time Reishi's eyes openly showed  _stubbornness and steel._ Said man shook his head, “I cannot,” he replied, his words strained with emotion.

“Damn it, Suoh, you dared asking me to kill you, now you want me to  _let you go_? Do you even  _hear yourself_? I heard your heartbeats faded, I held your corpse in my embrace, I—“ Reishi stopped to take his breath, and, hopefully, masked the cracks of his tone ( _shakingbreaking_ ** _hurting_** _),_ “you ask me to let that memory  _go_? I… I cannot do that. I cannot forgive myself if I ever do that.  _You wouldn’t understand._ "

Mikoto seemed to pause then, the words which he gathered moments before seemed to fall apart and was left in remnants. No, he wouldn’t understand the burden of killing another kindred spirit, but he knew something at par worse. 

“Release me, Munakata,” he said, again, his words bordering on  _begging_  because ‘ _could he not see that he was_  killing  _himself?_ ’ question suddenly reformed in his mind from the ashes of his thoughts. He pulled his frame close again, their noses barely touching as Mikoto said, again, desperately, “I regret having to let you kill me, but there is no other people I could trust to end my life before my fall takes others. I regret the damage that it wrought... I regret it all. But there is no other way for you to move on, for those days to return—“,  _his mind wandered on the day when he encountered the King in the library, the truce they agreed during their random rendezvous, the blows they traded during fights,_ “—except by  _letting me go_."

Those violet eyes closed for a single moment, and Mikoto could feel Munakata’s frantic breath becoming more settled. There was another span of silence that felt like forever, before those  _beautiful_  eyes revealed themselves to him again (why had he not noticed how captivating they were?), boring a resolve that Mikoto never expected. His gut wrenched uncomfortably—a sign that something was going to go wrong  _quickly,_  in the years of his life—when that man replied back:

“I love you too much to let you leave."

As soon as the words left him, the frosty feeling from his left hand quickly spread through his body until it was completely engulfed with Reishi’s aura. He panicked, of course, but Reishi’s grip held him firm on his place, violet eyes which were filled with resolve now also bore gentleness and reassurance—that he knew what he was doing despite his peculiar circumstance. Before he knew it, Mikoto was already within the Blue King’s sanctum protection.

_Reishi Munakata had actually done the impossible._


	4. King and Clansman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikoto walked to Reishi’s bed, the latter being fast asleep, and looked at his serene face closely to commit each detail to his memory. There will never be another nightmare involving his death, not when Mikoto is around to remind him _to let the matter stay dead._
> 
> He will preserve his peace of mind, for once.
> 
> “It’s alright, Munakata,” a whisper, a brief kiss on his forehead—a silent benediction—and a wan smile, “I got you."
> 
> * * *
> 
> The cost of defying one's fate is always steep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turns out to be so long it hurts. I... I should have maintained a ±1.5k words/chapter, but here I am, going overboard much *cringes at the words counter showing 3.1k words or so*. H-hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Unbeta'ed until further notice.
> 
> Oh, also, I'm recommending the musics below to accompany your reading experience:  
> 
> 
>   * [Suoh Mikoto Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48IsuZ1mc18) ~~come now, you've seen this coming from miles away~~
>   * [Inochi no Arikata](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9zoCBV9xkQ) from Psycho-Pass, and
>   * [Dawn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co1-GiL-pJA) from Pride and Prejudice for the last part.
> 

> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy the last chapter of this story.

_Reishi Munakata turned him into one of his clansmen._

The fact sent his mind reeling; here he was, standing before his  _rival-crush-turned-King_ despite being one himself _in his previous life_ , while remaining as a _spirit._ Could a dead man serve under another King?

(Just ignore the fact that said man had actually confessed his feeling to him.

 _…'Screw this_.')

Reishi's gaze was still understanding. Mikoto's brain refused to process anything _at all..._ which was why he never noticed how Reishi's brows reflexively crunched at the next moment, his aura expanding quickly, forming a barrier, as an answer to his mental call of protection ( _he could feel him calling his power through the Slate, even_ ) and surrounded both of them in his personal sanctum.

Before he could even  _ask the man what was wrong_ , silver strains of light had already launched at both of them with intent to  _hurt_.

The streams of power were deflected harmlessly by Reishi’s shield, bits of light glimmering in the still air. They were unharmed, though Mikoto cannot say the same for the meagre trust he spent on the woman who claimed as his dead guide. There was something unsettling in how he vacantly gazed at both of them as if  _her action was justified._ He had suspected that there was something wrong with this woman—some lose screws in  her head, maybe—but this transgression certainly cemented his assumption.

"Are you trying to change his fate, Reishi Munakata, S _econd Blue King_?" the woman indifferently asked, her silver eyes no bearing an edge that Mikoto never saw in this woman. Those silver eyes seemed to shine brighter that he remembered, and it sent out all the wrong message to his danger senses because  _he always looked at those set of eyes whenever he called forth his power to the limit._

Reishi shifted to his front protectively, though he knew far too well that his gesture was more like a child trying to protect his belonging—his _possession—_ rather than a King to his clansman. But Mikoto let it be; Reishi’s road to recovery from his grief will certainly need time. “You will not have him."

For a moment, Claudia Weismann seemed to gaze at them knowingly, as if she knew that the outcome was this; that, whatever choice Mikoto decided back then, he would always ended up in his newly-served King arms. There was a shadow passing through those silver orbs then, a shadow that took away her empathy as silvery doors quickly appeared out of nowehere, surrounding the three of them with no way out. From each door, he could feel her threat to _sever-cut-hit-maim_ , and Mikoto wondered why he did not notice this gap of power the moment they met for the first time.

"Then your effort will be for naught."

He did not know who launched the first attack. All he remembered was the coldness within him extending out, enveloping both of them even more thoroughly, while the edge of Reishi’s aura launched burst out in multiple beams of blue light at the self-claimed ferrywoman. Mikoto could feel their shield wobbled and soon realized that similar silver strands—her signature attacks so far—had come out from those doors, beating their hastily-made barrier. Each blow sent his mind reeling, and the fact that Reishi’s brows actually crunched at the force of each contact only furthered his own fear. 

(How did this gap of power escape his notice for so long...?)

By the time onslaught ended, Mikoto was already on his knees, his senses too fried to feel for anything saved for the damp ground beneath his hand. All he could focus on was to the ringing at the back of his mind, harshly calling for him to _tend to his King_ ( _togetuptofight_ _ **toprotect**_ _)_. Even then, the calling grew steadily weaker, as though an invisible shroud cut his connection. Only when the red-haired heard the soft thud of Reishi’s falling frame, silver beams protruding from parts of his unmoving form, that he understood _why_. Those violet eyes, shadowed by pain, gazed at him with hope while its owner’s lips forming words that were too quiet to be heard ( _too drowned out by his own violent scream)._ There was no power in every part of Mikoto, and yet he was by the Blue King’s side in a moment, still gleaming with power that was not meant to be his, trying to keep the other alive before—

“[Time to wake up, little Blue King.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4559349#freedom2) _[Little protector.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4637415/chapters/10997273#thebeginning)_ "

—everything within his field of vision blurred into silvery splotches.

(For a single terrifying moment, he thought they were Reishi’s blood. Later on, he found out that to actually snap out of this dreamworld, one had to experience death. _Those splotches were indeed Reishi’s blood._ )

* * *

When he came to be, Mikoto was drifting in that never-ending black expanse. The mere idea should have made his mind numb, yet he found himself at ease. Perhaps it was because of Reishi’s blue aura, now humming at the back of his mind, closer than he would like to believe. There was nothing here save for himself, even if his new aura told him that _Reishi was nearby._

There was a hand intertwining with his own, and all his thoughts turned out wrong. He turned to the person next to him, heart quickly swelling when he saw those beautiful violet eyes again and a kind smile gracing its owner’s lips. Reishi looked _exceptionally well,_ for a man who had been stabbed by silver energy beams that were meant to kill on spot. His uniform was prim, his glass was fixed properly, and that resolute gaze still lingered; a normal _Reishi Munakata, who’_ _s not broken nor dying_. So it was normal for Mikoto to pull him into a hug, first and foremost. The other almost yelped indignantly, but he eventually replied the gesture, his hand tracing Mikoto’s back comfortingly ( _because even former Kings can still be scared, can still lose control, can tremble before great tragedy that stroke too much near home_ ).

“…why are you doing this to yourself, Mikoto?"

He slowly turned at the owner of that voice, releasing himself from Reishi’s comforting embrace. If he were a Red King then, part of him that screamed for ‘ _an eye for an eye_ ’ would have made him leap at her without remorse. But Reishi’s frost kept his feeling in check ( _it had been forever since he could come to control his emotion so freely, without_ the threat of a sword dangling over his head), and Mikoto settled calmly on his place, his eyes staring warily at the woman who attacked them moments before.

Again, she showed emotions that he never expected to be there. Her silver eyes bore on him, as if she was the mother who gave her child a pointed stare when her own made an irreparable mistake. He could not understand what this woman was playing at, and the whole situation quickly rattled what little control he had over his own emotion. “I did _nothing_. Given how you attacked us without sane reason, _I_ should be the one asking questions."

She looked at him, then at Reishi (Mikoto scuffled to his friend's defence, never mind the fact that Reishi was much more powerful than himself at that moment), before returning back to the former. “You have nothing more to live on that side. You… you should have belonged with me."

Before he could even tell her that she was not making any sense, one silver door appeared next to her—the same door that had led Mikoto to meet his vassal, and then _Anna_. Of course he was not surprised when he found Tatara stepping out of the door, his gaze filled with both melancholy and relief, both conundrums to his silly laid-back gaze that he had when he was still alive. To see both of them standing over there, as though there was a giant chasm between where they stood, set something off in his mind, though he could not pinpoint _what._

Claudia stood still, ignoring Tatara’s presence altogether. The other only gave him a wry smile, “as expected of King, always deciding what he wants. I think he makes himself clear that he doesn’t want to move on, Claudia-san."

That was bullshit; the whole point of this hassle-filled journey was to set him free from Reishi’s forced binding so that he could get out of this limbo. “I want to move on, _Tatara,”_ he retorted, his hand gripping Reishi’s tightly while the image of those dead violet eyes continued to appear, again, and again. "But being attacked without good enough reason wasn’t something she stated when I start this _journey_."

Somehow, Tatara’s gentle gaze turned unreadable, his next words spoken so quietly that Mikoto wondered if he was trying to mask the cracks in his voice, “three hundred days ago, you wanted to. But tell me, Mikoto,” _Tatara never called him by his name_ , “if I advise you to renounce your status as a clansman serving under the Blue King, _will you do it_?"

Reishi’s hand still lingered on his own, his skin slightly colder than what he thought should be. There was a part of him, almost driven to silence by the blue flame, that told him not to turn away and look closer to notice the subtle changes in Reishi’s face—how the creases in his forehead became less wrinkled, how the edge of his smile turned even full when Mikoto was there with him, how those violet eyes sparkled even more compared to the time when _everything fell into broken pieces._

All those changes, only because his spirit chose to stay with _him_.

“No,” Mikoto murmured, his grip tightened on Reishi’s hand, the latter remained mute and silent as if he was a fatamorgana conjured by his own, empty mindscape. “No, I won’t."

(Despite many arguments that clansmen and their king only shared a commensalism bond, there were instances when Tatara’s simple presence would buffer the rage of his flame, or Anna’s curious appearance made it easy for him to focus, and Izumo’s light banter would relieve him some of the tension building within his psyche. He experienced firsthand how a King can draw power and tranquility from his/her clansman. If anything can be deduced from their pseudo-encounter, it was that Reishi had put him as his emotional foundation.

Thus, staying with him as his clansman was his only chance to repent for the mistake he made.)

“You will never be accepted by the Slate if you stood by this decision, Mikoto Suoh,” Claudia’s voice showing hints of concern, so unlike her usual crispiness, “nor will you will be accepted among the living. Will you stay as his clansman, knowing the consequence?"

The embers of that blue flame surrounding his being was comforting, and Mikoto knew well that this was an already-made decision even before they started this. “I will."

He felt something of power shifted behind her, as if a judgement related to his current affair had been delivered. Her concern was suddenly drained out of her frame, and Mikoto wondered _how he could miss this kind of shifts whenever he looked at that blasted platinum-blonde woman?_ Tatara seemed to stand away from her as though in awe and respect, as if she was a _King_ —

“Then, we banish you from this world, Mikoto Suoh. You will not set your foot on the realm of the dead, not even when your service to the Blue King had come to expire. You will wander the world endlessly—until the end of time."

(The price was steep, but Mikoto will afford it for a chance to set things right.)

* * *

The room was still dark despite the time being almost dawn. It was as though not much time had passed since the Claudia sent him into Reishi’s mindscape (at least now Mikoto understood the extent of the ferrywoman’s silver doors) before the woman returned him back to the living world. The blue Sword of Damocles was nowhere to be found (while he could not confirm this visually, the peaceful burn at the back of his mind told him enough that _Reishi was fine_ ), putting his mind at ease.

Mikoto walked to Reishi’s bed, the latter being fast asleep, and looked at his serene face closely to commit each detail to his memory. There will never be another nightmare involving his death, not when Mikoto is around to remind him _to let the matter stay dead._

He will preserve his peace of mind, for once.

“It’s alright, Munakata,” a whisper, a brief kiss on his forehead—a silent benediction—and a wan smile, “I got you."

* * *

“Who were you before you became a ferrywoman, Claudia?"

It was on the 352nd day since his awakening—twelve days since he became a blue clansman, or rather, _clansghost_ —when Mikoto encountered the woman again. He was loitering around the roof when one of her silver doors suddenly appeared overhead. Unlike her previous attire—a green military long coat with white dress-shirt—she wore a white set of hakama and haori befitting a shrine maiden. The change of attire was eye-catching, given how the Japanese attire clashed with her caucasian face; what manner of scheme had she brought with herself now, Mikoto had no clue at all.

When the question was brought to light, Claudia, in a rare unorthodox moment when some of her emotions were still in order, only sent him a bemused smile, “you ask me this after deciding to devote your whole afterlife to your soulmate?"

The ‘soulmate’ joke, Mikoto concluded, was an internal joke between her and Tatara. Nothing else would lead him to believe otherwise. “He’s not my soulmate,” the red-haired man muttered as he chose to leap from the roof and float. He thought that such notion was for children; even if Reishi Munakata was not destined to be his one-and-only, Mikoto would have stayed as his clansman, after all the fiasco he had caused to avenge his best friend. Claudia slowly drifted to close their distance, the edge of her white haori fluttering in the wind.

“I was—have been like you, I suppose,” she started, earning an interested gaze from the former king, “my brother was a King, and I am his only relative left whom he can turn to. When I died, he unconsciously latched his aura on me, and I was forced to stay in that endless black. There was no ferryman, or woman, to whisk me away from that awful place… until he _talked to me_."

The ferrywoman let out a nostalgic sigh and gave him a grin, “The Slate reached out to and offered me a deal. I am to help lost souls like you to bid the world a farewell and move on… and in exchange, I can dwell in this world for as long as I want… in a world where Addie is…"

“Addie?"

Another smile, this time even gentler that he remembered her ever doing, “Adolf K. Weismann, the first and only Silver King."

* * *

There was not a day when Mikoto would stray away from his King’s place since that fateful night. Usually, he would settle down in the space where the King usually enjoyed his tea when Reishi was busy dealing with paperwork or giving orders to his subordinates. The one time he got out to deal with another strain outbursts personally, Mikoto would tail him and floated over the battle that ensued. Sometimes, he would settle on his Damocles and enjoyed the view, the blue King’s aura that enveloped his astral presence protecting his senses from the chaotic battlefield that threatened to wash him away. There was no need for him to help his King in a battle, not when he, a former King, knew the extent of a King’s power.

Reishi can handle himself just fine.

(Part of him was glad that the man was recovering slowly from his grief. Sometimes he would stop abruptly and had a faraway gaze at something—sometimes the window, or his own puzzle, or the pile of bean paste that his lieutenant prepared for him—and Mikoto just knew that _he had to make his presence known._ Then, the least he did was to flare his aura, to reach out for the king who cannot see his beloved clansman. Afterwards, the King would usually continue his work—save for that one time.

On the 363rd night since his awakening, Mikoto bursted his blue flame to soothe the King’s longing when Reishi Munakata looked at him _as though he knew he was there_. Somewhere in his heart yearned for this man to understand that _he never left._ But Reishi turned away, and Mikoto reminded himself that, yes, he had doomed himself to save this man.

 _‘It’s alright, because I got you.’_ )

He was more concerned with the Claudia’s fidgety presence, floating in front of him. Clothed in her white hakama, she reeked of news—and news from the proxy of the Slate was never _good_.

“Just spill it out already. And not in your freaky vacant-and-crisp Slate style,” he chided, and it was enough for her to shift closer. He noticed a string of golden flowers in her hand the smell of a blooming yellow primrose teasing his sense. Her silver eyes steeled as she pulled his hand quickly and handed the flower to his hand. He threw him a look. “…what?"

She raised her hand, gesturing him to _shut up and listen_ , “tomorrow, go with him to the place where you fell. He will go there, for today is exactly one year since your death. When he tries to let you go—you will feel him trying to renounce you from the clan—wish upon those primroses to stay with him, then call his name. Don’t screw this, Mikoto."

It was their briefest encounter yet; even before Mikoto was able to form a single question, Claudia was already summoning her signature silver door and disappeared with a, ' _Totsuka-san said hi!_ ’, leaving Mikoto alone at the top of Reishi’s Damocles. There was an urge within himself to throw the flower away and dismiss her advice as a prank. In the end, Mikoto carefully put it in his pocket and descended to the ground, Reishi’s sign of power disappearing as the blues finished their job.

He’ll do it, if only to entertain the ferrywoman.

* * *

He pulled out the string of flowers, wishing from the bottom of his heart that he could stay with him—an impossible wish for a man who had thrown both his life and afterlife—and uttered his name in reverence:

[“Munakata.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4447472#bravesoldierboy)"

He turned, violet eyes shone with recognition so powerful that _Mikoto just wanted to cry then ( **he could see me, why could he see me?** )—_but he didn’t.

Instead, he extended his arms, his next words filled with relief and joy that he could not even begin to understand.

[“I’m here."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4447472#comesmarchinghome)

He’ll have to thank that blasted ferrywoman after this. 


End file.
